30 days of Johnlock
by RamenMartinez
Summary: 30 chapters of Johnlock, title says it all. Rated T, just in case something happens
1. Wait for You to Get Home

John walked into the flat...to find Sherlock laying exactly where he was laying 8 hours ago. "Sherlock!" John said loudly with a slight air of annoyance. "Have you even moved at all since I left this morning?"

Sherlock looked over at his flatmate, a look of surprise to see him there. "Has it been 8 hours already?" He questioned, stood up and stumbled. "What do you think I do all day while you're at work anyways?"

John held Sherlock steady and answered. "Well, I assumed you...do something...with your time. I don't know, Sherlock. Do you really just sit there waiting for me to come home?"

"Of course," Sherlock stated simply. "Unless there's a case, and if there is a case, you're usually here with me during the actual case-solving."

John looked at the younger man in a mixture of shock and surprise. "You sit here...and wait for me to get home all day?" His voice was soft and quiet.

Sherlock turned his face away, as if ashamed or embarrassed to let John see him. "I don't think that you fully understand, John," Sherlock began slowly. "I don't think you understand just how dependent I actually am on you. Without you, I probably wouldn't even eat as often as I do, and you know as well as I that I still don't meet your standards of healthy eating mannerisms. Based off of past experiences, I'd be back on some type of substance and more likely than not I'd be abusing it which wouldn't help me with eating. But with you here as a constant...rock in my life, John, I don't need them."

Sherlock ended his soliloquy and finally decided to take a glance at John's face. John was quiet, in shock and in awe. "Sherlock, do you really mean all that? Because I swear if you don't...I don't even know what I would do if you weren't serious."

"Obviously, I'm serious, John. I see no reason to not be serious about this...delicate topic," Sherlock ended lamely. "I would understand, of course, if you don't feel the same way that I do, and I will respect whatever your choice in the matter is, no matter how much it may hurt-"

John cut Sherlock off in the middle of his sentence with a kiss. Sherlock knew he had made the right choice with his blogger.


	2. Can't Sleep

John walked into his room thoroughly exhausted. Work had been dreadful that day and he was relieved that he and Sherlock didn't have a case at the time. _I would not have been any help whatsoever and would have probably been annoying as Anderson is...all right, not that annoying. _

John had even been a little relieved to see that Sherlock had not been "patiently" awaiting his return from work in the living room. The way his day had been going, John would have held little to zero patience towards Sherlock and his little quirks. The last time he had little patience for him, they had ended up having a fight. Even though making up with each other had been fun, John always hated fighting with Sherlock. Well, fighting when its repercussions were longer lasting.

Barely managing to take off his coat, John tossed it onto the floor. He managed to collapse on the bed when the door creaked open.

"Jaaaaawn?"

Sighing, John turned to look at the figure in the doorway. "Yes, Sherlock?" John tried to hide his slight annoyance with his flatmate, but Sherlock obviously caught on.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said sleepily. "But I can't fall asleep right now." Sherlock paused for a moment to yawn and John took advantage to notice Sherlock was wrapped in a blanket and hid his laughter. "And I know how important my...sleep is to you, but sleeping alone is not working right now."

Before John had noticed, Sherlock was laying in his bed with him. "Sherlock, why can't you sleep in your own room?"

Sherlock weaseled his way into John's embrace and kissed him lightly, first on his cheeks then his lips. "I missed you, John."

A few moments later, the world's only consulting detective was sleeping safe and sound in his blogger's arms. John kissed his forehead and whispered, "I missed you too, Sherlock."


	3. Pointless

The flat always seemed empty now. John just laid there on the couch when he wasn't working. Despite it all, John knew he had to keep working because if he didn't, he'd be left alone with only his thoughts. The last thing John wanted to do was to actually have to think about what had happened.

_His body crumpled on the sidewalk, all the blood. _John tried never to linger on the thought of Sherlock for long, but John was torn and never wanted to forget a single thing about him. From his dark curls to his insistance on wearing that damn coat everywhere, it seemed like John was the only one who really and truly cared anymore.

Lestrade never wavered in his thoughts on Sherlock, never once thought he could be a fraud. He still dropped in from time to time, as if concerned for John and his well being. _That makes one of us_, John thought.

Molly never talked to John anymore. He didn't think twice about it though. They were never really close, and she had her own problems to deal with now. It was no surprise to John that Donovan and Anderson took it in stride. It was like they were...tickled with the fact he was gone. _One day we'll be around a body, and Sherlock Holmes will have put it there_, John remembered what Sally had said to him.

John hated them for it. He didn't blame them, but he hated them for it all the same. John hung his head and let his eyes get blurry. _Damn it, Sherlock. Even from the grave, you still find a way into my head, you arse. _

John laid there, just thinking about Sherlock. From the grave, there was no reason to pretend that he didn't love him, like those feelings weren't there. He wished he could've told Sherlock the truth. That he was the only person that mattered. But even John sometimes doubted whether or not Sherlock could've faked his own death that good. It was so hard to believe in him sometimes.

Life was lonely without Sherlock and John isolated himself from the rest of the world. _Because without Sherlock, what's the point of it all?_

* * *

Sorry to whoever reads this! I was in an angsty sort of mood! But review, follow or favorite because I love feedback!


	4. Don't Worry About That

Sherlock glided into Lestrade's office, ignoring the judgmental looks of Anderson and Donovan. John however took a closer look. "What's wrong with you two?"

Donovan turned her head sharply toward John and said, "Merely watching the freak. Don't worry yourself about it."

John had known Sally for a while now and he had accepted that the two of them were never going to be the closest of friends because she had made up her mind about Sherlock a long time ago. They were usually civil towards one another when interactions were unavoidable.

"I'll worry about it if I'd like to, thanks," John said a little sharper than usual.

Anderson turned around to face John. "Why do you even stick around him? A freak like him is never going to change and we all know it."

"Glad to see you can form a sentence, Anderson. Maybe next time you'll actually say something of substance," John said knowing that he was close to being pushed over the edge.

"John," Sally said as if she was about to tell him words of wisdom. "You're a nice enough guy. Just leave him; he'll never love you anyway, and there are plenty of women out there that would gladly go out with you. You really don't need to stay constantly in his shadow."

Anderson merely nodded and turned away to stare back at Sherlock. Before John really knew what was happening, he forced Anderson to turn around and his fist made contact with Anderson's cheek.

"How about you two just mind your own business and affairs from now on, all right?" John walked towards Lestrade's office door as Sherlock walked out.

"What was that all about, John?" Sherlock queried. "Judging from the state of Anderson, you weren't in need of assistance."

John looked at his flatmate and grabbed his hand. "Nothing to worry yourself about, Sherlock. It's taken care of."


	5. Why Wouldn't I Stay?

John heard the door slam and knew immediately this evening wasn't going to end well. "I might as well get this over with as soon as possible," he said to himself. "God forbid I keep him waiting for this inevitable fight."

John hated fighting with Sherlock, but he knew as well as anyone else that it was impossible to interact with Sherlock and not get in an argument or two. Usually, they tried to be patient with each other, but patience only goes so far. With Sherlock being possibly one of the most hard-headed, stubborn people John had ever dealt with, it was a safe bet to say arguments were not few and far between.

He found Sherlock laying completely horizontal, face up on the couch. John stood there for a minute, admiring Sherlock's figure. He knew that in a short amount of time that he wouldn't be admiring his flatmate at all, so John took advantage of the view while he could. _He really is gorgeous, it amazes me how he rarely sees it._

"John, why on earth are you just standing there?" Sherlock kept his eyes closed, his voice sharper than it usually was towards John.

"Standing here watching you," John remarked. "Is that a problem?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at John. "Perhaps it is. Why are you just staring at me? Do you honestly have nothing better to do than to stand and stare at me?"

John was careful not to show his slight anger and irritation at Sherlock and tried not to stalk off to the kitchen. "Maybe I don't," John tried to keep his voice down so as to ot attract Mrs. Hudson's attention. "Isn't that just it, Sherlock? I never have anything else to do except follow you around in your shadow."

"You have so many options, John," Sherlock followed him and sat down. "So many things to do with your life and time, yet you stay here with me. I don't understand it. Why you would choose to stay in my company and follow me blindly."

The conversation had suddenly taken a different tone than John had been expecting. "What are you going on about, Sherlock? Me having so many options and choosing to stay with you?"

Sherlock looked up as if he had said something he shouldn't have or as if he wasn't expecting John to have heard him. "Never mind that, John. Let's move on to a different topic then."

"Sherlock," John pulled a chair closer to Sherlock's. "Even if I did have all these options and choices for me to pick, I would still rather be here, in this flat, with you. In fact, I think anyone else would be rather mad not to choose to stay with you. Sure, you're a little difficult to handle sometimes, but you're still the most interesting person I've ever spent time with. And I'm proud to say that I follow you around, proud to say that I live here with you. Proud to say that I love you."

Sherlock looked at John's face and offered a small smile. "Thank you, John." The argument John had been expecting was not what he had gotten from Sherlock, but making up was as always fun.


	6. Memory Lane

Sherlock was laying next to John who was sleeping soundly. It had surprised Sherlock when he had somehow "miraculously" found the courage one day to tell, or rather show, John his true feelings. At the time, they had known each other for nearly two years and John had proved himself faithful.

_"John?" Sherlock had called from the couch in the living room. He had been contemplating about whether or not to tell John about the way he felt about him for quite some time now. Sherlock looked up when John entered the room and willed himself not to back out. "I have something to tell you, John. And before you stop and interrupt me or say anything, just let me talk. Because if I don't, then I'm more or less afraid that I never will tell you what I need to tell you and what you need to know, because you should know this, John. You deserve the truth from me and I, at the very least, need to give you the respect that you deserve. We've been through a lot, you and I. And it's been almost two years since we first met, and-"_

_It was here that John cut Sherlock off. "Sherlock? You're rambling, which only means that what you need to tell me is as important as you say it is. So will you please just get on with it?"_

_Sherlock took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. "Well, to put it simply, John, I love you." The silence from John had hurt worse than any insult that anybody had ever said to Sherlock. Looking up hastily, Sherlock saw that John was no longer looking at him. "I just had been thinking quite a lot the last few days about that, to be honest it was probably more than a few days. And I had come to the conclusion that you ought to know. Because I do think you deserve the truth...despite the one or two times that I've concealed the whole truth from you." Sherlock added that last bit in, in a half hearted attempt at a joke to make John laugh._

_By this time, John had made his way to a chair as if in shock. "Sherlock," he began quietly. Looking up, John tried to backpedal when he saw the dismay and hurt amongst other feelings written on Sherlock's face. "No no, Sherlock, listen. I love you too, and I want to make sure that you know that. God, you don't even know how long I have waited for you to even come close to saying that, but have you really thought this through? Like what would happen between us if I felt the same way?"_

_Sherlock sat there, feeling the most idiotic he had felt in years. John was right; he hadn't thought past the actual feeling itself and him telling John. What would happen now? Where do they go from this point in time? "I'm sorry, John," Sherlock mumbled as he got up to leave. "You're right. I'm sorry I've put you in this position."_

_"Sherlock, stop," John put his hand over his arm. "We'll figure this out, all right? Maybe not now and maybe not tomorrow. But if you think that I'm just going to leave you, then maybe you aren't the genius that I thought you were." He offered Sherlock a smile, kissed him on the cheek and left the room. From that moment on, Sherlock knew that he was John's and John was his._

Sherlock smiled at the memory. Clearly, they had figured it out.


	7. Laying on the Couch?

Bear with me here on this chapter please! There are multiple parts to it so somewhere along this chapter will be a line or something of the sort to separate the two POVs. first part is John, second is Sherlock, and the third is neither or something...there's a word for it...

* * *

Life with Sherlock was sometimes very frustrating. I knew what I agreed to when Sherlock and I...we...you know. When we got...together. It's still a bit strange for me to think that way even after 9 months of being in this relationship with him. God knows I love him, and I hope that he does love me. But even with the love, there are those times that I wish I didn't. No that's not right. I never wish that I didn't feel the way that I do, it's just...a lot to handle. Take this moment right now. Sherlock's lying on the couch, eyes closed, shutting the world and me completely out. I'm more or less used to him shutting me out. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt a little bit, but right now that's actually not the issue right now. So Sherlock's laying there on the couch and he won't move. I realize that he enjoys just laying there, but he's got a room with a perfectly comfortable bed. (Trust me, I know.)

Whenever I try to talk to him, he simply murmurs "Not right now, John", shushes me and never opens his eyes. I honestly don't know if he's sleeping there in a weird trance or if he's thinking. I've been standing here in the doorway for about 20 minutes thinking about what to do with this situation. (Don't think certain _things_ haven't crossed my mind, but I doubt Sherlock's in the mood right now.) Do I go and ask him what the hell he's even doing? Do I send him to his room like a child? Or, and I'm seriously considering this, I could always go and wake him up in a...unique way to say the least.

Yep. I've reached a decision, and I better do it now because I'm starting to lose the feeling in my left leg. "Sherlock?" I walked over to him and whisper in his ear.

* * *

This couch is quite comfortable. I would get up and go in my room, but I know that that's all John wants. The one thing this couch lacks would be the comforting smell of John. He smells...delicious, delectable. Like home, like warmth. Like all the things I never knew I wanted. That's the only reason I even consider going to my room at any time.

I wonder if he thinks I'm unaware of him. He's just standing over there in the doorway. If I'm keeping time correctly (who am I kidding? Of course my time keeping skills are right) then John has been standing there for nearly 20 minutes. His leg is most likely falling asleep or is nearing numbness. It's about time; I can hear his footsteps softly thudding and are coming closer to me. Mmm, he's whispering in my ear. It's almost hard for me to concentrate on what John is actually saying because his breath is so warm in my ear.

* * *

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock responded trying to hold back a quiet moan.

John kissed him and ended it far too quickly by Sherlock's standards. "Do you really want to lay here? By yourself?" John was a little surprised with how quick Sherlock leapt from the couch and pulled him along.


	8. Valentine's Surprise

Sherlock had never thought much about Valentine's Day. He never really had a reason to, and even now, _technically _he still didn't have an actual, concrete reason. He was painfully aware of the fact that John was in a relationship and of the fact that it was not with him. Truthfully, though he would never dare to admit it aloud, Sherlock wished that it was. _Completely idiotic of me_, Sherlock thought. _It's foolish of me to even think or hope for a moment that John would look twice at me. _

Sherlock heard John move about throughout the rest of the flat and knew that he had been planning something for Valentine's Day for his significant other. Sherlock didn't necessarily _want _to know the details and didn't even want to know that John was planning something, but as usual Sherlock knew anyway.

John walked in, a plethora of emotions on his face from excited to stressed. Sherlock couldn't help but take note of how John's new clothes complimented him completely. "Morning, Sherlock," John's voice rang out almost gleefully. Sherlock fought the urge to smile at his cheery disposition and fought the urge to show his slight disappointment. "Any plans today or are there no new cases for you to solve within 2 minutes of arrival?"

Sherlock knew that John was joking and exaggerating, but he half wished that there were cases to solve so he could keep John to himself. "No plans for the day, John," Sherlock said. John thought he sounded a bit sad. _Could the great Sherlock Holmes be lonely on Valentine's Day?_

"You all right, Sherlock?" John asked, seeming to catch Sherlock off guard.

"Fine. I'm fine," Sherlock responded rather quickly and walked out. He knew that John was happy with his latest girl, but sometimes it was a lot for Sherlock to handle. But he managed, and if he felt he couldn't, then he ran off.

Later that night, Sherlock was back in the living room, just trying not to feel sorry for himself. _I'm being ridiculous and I just need to find a way to stop feeling this way. _Sherlock looked up from his train of thought to see John dressed in a way that made Sherlock want to simply lock the door and hide from the rest of the world forever. "Going out, then? What's this one's name?" Sherlock tried not to sound irritated or worst of all jealous, but it came off that way anyway.

John looked confused and crossed the room to stand by Sherlock. "What are you going on about now? I broke up with Alice nearly three weeks ago. Did you seriously not know that?"

"Don't be stupid, John. I know you were making some elaborate plan for your latest endeavor and I just simply wanted to know her name," Sherlock nearly snapped at John.

"Sherlock," John looked down and said softly. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Before Sherlock could respond, John was pulling him down for a kiss. "It was for you, Sherlock."

Sherlock couldn't help but be a cliche and think that maybe Valentine's Day wasn't pointless after all.


	9. Valentine's Surprise (John's POV)

this one's going to be John's POV of the last chapter

* * *

I usually ended up dreading Valentine's Day. It's never been a holiday I can appreciate because oftentimes I end up between girlfriends or something complicated where I never do truly know whether or not it's acceptable or expected for me to get them a gift. This year is different though. There's Sherlock, someone who I probably shouldn't be interested in, but I just can't help it. I do love him, even though he's a complete arse. I'm approximately 99% sure that he loves me too, but it's that 1% chance that I could just be reading all the signs wrong. Everybody else sees it in him as well, but maybe it's just he's able to tolerate me a little bit more than he can tolerate anybody else. Who knows besides Sherlock?

Well, whether it's that 1% holding him back or he's on the same page as me, tonight's the night, no holding back. I need to let him know how I feel and figure out once and for all if he feels the same way. I hope he loves me back otherwise today will just be another ruined, awkward Valentine's Day.

I've been planning what I hope will be a nice evening. Just dinner, but still. I think that it could be the start of something better, something that could potentially turn out wonderfully. Then again, it could be the start of me having to move out or worse just endless awkward encounters between the two of us. I don't think I could handle that if it happened. Maybe I shouldn't do this...

Sherlock's been moping on the couch all day. Perhaps I should postpone this. Even when I went out to say hello to him, he barely responded. I'm still going to go with this. I have to because I've got nothing else to lose.

Maybe the new clothes were a bit...too much or something. Looking at myself in the mirror, I feel weird. I've got a feeling that I'm going to be feeling stupid later.

**_(later)_**

I can't believe that he thought I was still going out with some other girl. He can be such a dumb arse sometimes. But he's mine now.

* * *

I'm in kind of a rush right now and in AP English, so that's why this one is probably less as good as any others...sad face. Happy Valentine's Day!


	10. Drunk Sherlock

John had surpassed worried. It wasn't like Sherlock to not text or call or let somebody know where the hell he was and when he would be getting back. John couldn't help but think the worst. _What if he's been hurt? What if something happened when he was off working on some case only he knew about? No one would know where he is. What if he's been kidnapped? _John knew he shouldn't worry so much, but Sherlock would nearly always let at least John know where he'd be at.

John checked his phone every two minutes, checking for messages or calls and checking to see how long Sherlock had been gone. _He left at 8 this morning. It's been over 12 hours, something must have gone wrong. _John resisted the urge to call Mycroft. He knew that he'd be brushed off immediately and be treated like a child by his flatmate's brother. Sometimes it paid to have Mycroft there but most times he was reluctant to help and came off as impatient and like he couldn't and shouldn't be bothered by peasants like his brother's associates.

John knew that he could call Lestrade, but he didn't want it to sound like he was clinging desperately to Sherlock. He knew that there'd only be more rumors as a result of being worried. John couldn't help but be attached to Sherlock, but he knew that that was a line that he could not cross. But even with not crossing that line, it was still perfectly acceptable for him to be worried and concerned for Sherlock's well being.

Suddenly, John heard a stomping coming up the stairs. Sherlock slammed the door opened and yelled, "JAAAAAWN!" Sherlock stumbled to the couch and collapsed on it.

John walked over. "Sherlock, where the hell were you?"

Sherlock looked up, eyes looking glazed. "Hello there, John. I was dragged against my will to go and get a drink with...some people. On a separate and more important subject, we need jam, John. And we need it now." Sherlock looked as serious as someone drunk out of their mind could. "Also, on a very important subject, John," Sherlock paused. "I need to tell you something. Something very important. John...I more or less love you." Sherlock closed his eyes.

John stood in front of him, almost in shock. First of all, Sherlock drunk? Definitely a sight to see. Second, could what Sherlock said be true if he was drunk? "I...I love you too, Sherlock." Sherlock's eyelids fluttered slightly and smiled, seeming to understand what John was talking about.

"Now that that's settled, the jam will have to wait until tomorrow because I have a feeling that I will fall asleep."

Staying true to his word, Sherlock was soon asleep. And John was wide awake, feeling overjoyed.


	11. Plot Twist

sorry it's taken so long to update! it was tech week and I never got home before 11:30 each night!

* * *

Sherlock sat down on the couch. The flat was empty...it had been for a while now. It still hurt him to think about it, but when you're alone, sometimes you can't help but think about what you shouldn't. He looked around at the flat. Before John, it had been as empty as it was now, but Sherlock had gotten accustomed to his partner in crime...his friend being there. He grew accustomed to his presence and if he was to be completely honest with himself. he enjoyed and craved his presence.

Sherlock hated himself. For everything that he did, all his actions that may or may not have led to the loss of one of the few people in life he cared about. For the tears that came to his eyes that he wished he could make disappear, for the feeling that came to his chest just thinking about what had happened.

It wasn't supposed to have happened like that, but Sherlock knew it had been his fault despite whatever Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson told him. Sherlock hated himself for his stupidity and rashness. If he had just waited for John or even Lestrade...he wouldn't feel so pitifully alone right now. But no. He had charged in with absolutely no thought or regard to anyody else. And John had rushed in after him...

Sherlock let the tears roll down his cheeks, wishing and hoping that they would wash away the guilt that ate away at his soul every day. A small sob escaped from Sherlock's mouth.

It was only moments before John had been hit, and not even John, wonderful and amazing John, could have...survived it. Sherlock closed his eyes and remembered rushing to his side, seeing the blood spread everywhere. A part of him had died that day when he saw the life fade away from his best friend's face. What had hurt Sherlock more than anything was what John had whispered. Those damn last words of his that came back to haunt Sherlock every hour of every waking day. _Sherlock...I love you..._

Sherlock slumped down on the couch and continued to sob helplessly. Even knowing there was nothing he could do now, Sherlock couldn't help but focus completely on it. Mycroft had stopped forcing him to work and allowed Sherlock to use any resources he would need. Mycroft kept closer tabs on him than before and Sherlock knew it. Sherlock barely ate anymore, even less than before John came into his life. Lestrade still dropped in from time to time, checking up on Sherlock and always came with stories of Anderson's stupidity, told in an attempt to make Sherlock show any emotion at all. Even recognition of other people would be better than nothing.

But nothing would ever make it better. John was gone...gone for good and Sherlock would never forgive himself. _Just one thing, John. Please, don't be dead._


	12. Hiding His Feelings

Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed and listened to John move around and about the flat. He knew that John was not exactly one to move soundlessly and glide about, but if he was to be blunt, Sherlock kind of enjoyed hearing him almost stomp about. He rarely told him this, but Sherlock cared about John, far more than he'd like to admit, but he liked having him with him, knowing John would be there.

Not really wanting to leave the walls of his room but wanting to actually see John, Sherlock almost reluctantly got up. He didn't know what John was doing or why, but he assumed John was getting ready. It was nearly the time that was generally associated with dinner, and Sherlock took it for granted that John was going to suggest they go for food and force Sherlock to eat. Another thing Sherlock wouldn't admit was that he liked when John was assertive and took control.

Actually stepping out, Sherlock saw John slightly rushing about and looking a little disheveled. "Everything all right, John?" Sherlock queried, for once entertaining the thought that maybe John wasn't preparing to go out with him.

"I've got a date, Sherlock," John said exasperated. "I figured that it would be _obvious_ to you that I was going out tonight."

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to admit that his feelings were more than a little hurt, and he knew that he had to hide that from John. Sherlock had known for quite some time now that he felt more than comradery for John. He just hadn't known how to make it...known or clear to John. And even if Sherlock knew how to profess his love towards John, it wouldn't matter; John had already said countless times that he wasn't gay.

So instead of just telling John how he felt, Sherlock watched as John got his things together and walked out. He was used to the feeling, but the hurt and slight heartache still surprised Sherlock every time.


	13. Vulnerable

"John?"

John heard Sherlock call him from the living room. His voice sounded slightly scared or frightened, and John couldn't help but compare his tone to a child who has had a nightmare. Nevertheless, John left the warm comfort of his bed and blankets and strode out to the living room to find Sherlock curled in a blanket.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John didn't know whether to smile or to be worried, and as a result, he was just a mixture of both. "What happened?" He knew that Sherlock didn't particularly enjoy being treated like a child, but when he acted like one, what else was John to do?

"I woke up...and you weren't there," Sherlock looked down as if ashamed and embarrassed to see John's reaction.

John sat down next to him. He couldn't help but to think about how ill prepared Sherlock would be if they ever decided to bring children into their life together. Sherlock himself was still a child at heart, whether or not he admitted it. Wrapped tight in his blanket, laying on the couch rather than in his room on his bed. "Shhh, Sherlock."

Sherlock buried his head of dark curls and hugged John close. Even though he didn't say it as often as he should, Sherlock desperately needed John and was completely dependent on him to keep himself stable.

"Do you really think that I would just leave you, Sherlock?" John gently removed Sherlock's head from his shoulder to make him look. "I love you, all right? And just because I felt like actually sleeping in a bed instead of on the couch does not lessen what I feel for you, and it doesn't mean I will ever leave you." John kissed Sherlock gently, not wanting to upset him any more.

"I love you too, John." Sherlock whispered back. He buried his face again and pulled John in. "I won't leave you either."

* * *

whoaaaa, 2 chapters in one day? Can you tell I'm trying to make up for not posting for over a week? Still dreadfully sorry for that!


	14. Arguing!

"That's ridiculous, John!" Sherlock's voice rang out through the flat. They had been arguing for nearly an hour now and had only paused when Mrs Hudson had walked in asking about a lovers' quarrel.

"Why is that so ridiculous, Sherlock?" John yelled right back.

"Why? Because reasons, John! I think that it's completely idiotic to even suggest that!" Sherlock sounded deeply offended, but John knew he'd give in soon. 'Because reasons' wasn't an argument up to par with Sherlock's usual standards.

"All I suggested was that we go out of town for a few days! Why is that so idiotic? Would it kill you to even act like you enjoy my company in public?" John let the hurt in his voice seep through. He knew that it would bring Sherlock to reality.

"I do enjoy your company, John," Sherlock said quietly. "Do you really feel the way?"

John looked down and acted ashamed and embarrassed. "Yeah, Sherlock. I do feel that way a lot of the time. It's like you're ashamed of me or of us. Is that what it is?"

"No!" Sherlock nearly shouted back at him. Sherlock approached John semi cautiously and laid his hand on John's arm. "I love you so much, and I would never, I could never be ashamed of you or of what we have together. You are the most important person in my life and I...cherish the time we have together." John stood there in shock and kissed Sherlock.

"So does that mean yes?"

* * *

really short chapter, sorry!


	15. Purple Shirt of Sex

Sherlock was wearing what John liked to call the purple shirt of sex. John couldn't help but notice how attractive Sherlock was and couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of him.

"Is something wrong, John?" Sherlock held back a sly grin and tried to keep his voice as innnocent as possible.

John looked up startled. "Uh, what do you mean? Nothing's wrong, Sherlock." _Damn him and that purple shirt._

"Well then you won't mind my asking why you are staring ever so intently at me."

John bit his lip and looked at the floor. Sherlock wore that shirt on purpose and John knew it.

"John?" Sherlock's voice called out to John and he looked up to see Sherlock grinning back at him. "If nothing's wrong, then you won't mind my continuance with an experiment, right?"

"I, uh, I suppose not," John mumbled back. He kept biting his lip and tried to decide whether or not he should jump Sherlock right then and there. "Uh, Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock's voice nearly sent a shiver up John's spine as he turned around to face him. "Now is there a problem?"

"Well, uh, just how important is this experiment of yours?" John said a little nervously, trying not to bite his lip any more. "Because, uh, if it's not that important, perhaps we could do...something else." His voice trailed off as he looked away from Sherlock's intense gaze.

Sherlock waltzed over to where John was sitting. "Well, what did you have in mind?" He nearly purred as he pulled John up towards him.

John closed the distance between the two of them in an instant, pressing his lips hard on Sherlock's and pressing his body up against Sherlock's. "You arse," John said in between kisses and unbuttoning his shirt. "You know exactly what I have in mind because that's what you wanted. You and that damn purple shirt of sex."

* * *

little longer than the last one but not by much. sorry about that!


	16. Movies

sorry for not posting in a while. I was sick and then it was ACT and MME but here's another chapter!

* * *

"Sherlock? Are you ready to go yet?" John called from the living room. Sherlock had been taking his time getting ready, and John was beginning to get a little bit frustrated. "We're only going to a movie, not to see the Queen, Sherlock!" John yelled when Sherlock didn't respond. "And even then, all you had on was a bed sheet," he muttered under his breath.

Sherlock walked out of his bedroom, saying, "Shut up, John. Just because we're only going to the movies doesn't mean I shouldn't necessarily look nice for our...outing." His voice lost its usual confidence as he emerged into the living room.

"Just call it what it is, Sherlock," John wasn't facing Sherlock, but he knew he was just standing there waiting for John's reaction. "It's a date, Sherlock." He turned around and was somewhat surprised. He was dressed in black pants and a black suit jacket. He had a white dress shirt with a tie that matched. To put it simply, Sherlock looked...sexy.

Sherlock looked caught off guard and self conscious. "What? John, what's wrong?"

"No, uh, nothing's wrong," John stuttered. He thought Sherlock was attractive, but he had never actually seen him dressed up like this before. "Nothing's wrong, Sherlock."

Sherlock noted that his voice sounded different than usual, but he wasn't completely sure he knew what it meant. Being in a relationship like this was a new experience for Sherlock. Being with someone he thought of as an equal. Quite honestly, Sherlock sometimes thought that John was a better person than he was. He was kind and caring and compassionate towards other people, which was way more than could be said for Sherlock. Sherlock viewed himself as...bare. He never saw the importance of being nice to people who didn't have something important to say. "Okay, then. Are you ready?"

Before Sherlock was aware of what was happening, John had crossed the room and kissed him. John lightly led and slightly pushed Sherlock against the wall as he slipped his tongue into his mouth. "John?" Sherlock questioned quietly and a little breathlessly.

"What, Sherlock?"

"Does this mean we aren't going to the movies?"


	17. Chasing After Him

Chasing after Sherlock had been John's life for quite some time now. Literally running after him was what John enjoyed now. He had never thought himself to be the type to chase after anyone, but ever since he met Sherlock, it seemed like that was all he did anymore. However, John felt it was time that Sherlock chased after him, for once at least.

"Sherlock?" John called out.

"Yes, John?"

"I'm going out for a drink with Lestrade and them. I probably won't be back for a while. Are you going to be all right?" John tried to hide his amusement because he knew that Sherlock didn't care for them, with the exception of Lestrade at times.

Sherlock came gliding into the room. "Going out for a drink?" John could tell by his expression that Sherlock was trying not to show how that bit of information had actually affected him.

"Yeah," John said nonchalantly. "That's not a problem, is it?" He looked at Sherlock as if daring him to say there was an issue.

Sherlock paused for half a second before almost shrugging his shoulders. "No. Not a problem. Why should it be a problem?"

John turned away to hide the small smile that he knew came to his face. Sherlock wouldn't have admitted it, but he liked to keep John to himself and John knew it. "Good. Well, then I'll see you later, Sherlock."

Sherlock watched John walk out of the flat, knowing that John knew how he felt about going out. Sherlock watched him and was conflicted. He didn't want to be jealous, but he was. John was a very likable person and very versatile, unlike Sherlock. Despite being completely aware that John didn't hate actually going out for a drink with other people once in a while, Sherlock waited rather impatiently for 20 minutes before sending John a text.

_John, come home quickly.  
__-SH_

Sherlock knew that it would take about ten minutes before John would be back home, but he sat awaiting his blogger's arrival.

When John walked in, Sherlock rushed to the door to show just how much he missed him.


	18. Two Years Later

It had been two years since Sherlock's...death. It still hurt John to even think about Sherlock being dead. It seemed like almost everyone had turned on the consulting detective. The papers, the majority of the guys at the Yard. John had stuck by Sherlock consistently, much to the dismay of Lestrade and Molly. They'd still pop in from time to time to check up on him, sometimes even Mycroft would occassionally send something by. John wasn't a complete twat; he knew if it weren't for Mycroft Holmes, John would most likely be on the streets.

John rarely left the flat unless he had to. He knew Mrs. Hudson would benefit from a new tenant, but John couldn't bear to leave the only thing that seemed to tie him to Sherlock. His room had been left untouched; John wouldn't allow Mycroft's minions to go in. John knew it wasn't the most rational or reasonable thing he had done, but without Sherlock, there was no one else to tell him he was being idiotic.

He missed Sherlock. Constantly. Before John knew that he cared for Sherlock, loved him even, but now it was hard to forget there was even a part of his life where he didn't know Sherlock. Except for the dreams. John had nightmares constantly now. They rotated as if part of an unknown schedule between dreams about the war and dreams about Sherlock. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept a full eight hours peacefully.

Peace. John wished that he could have peace. He was an empty man now, without Sherlock to balance him out. His best friend was gone, never to return. After two years of emptiness, John wished and hoped and prayed to get over Sherlock, to forget the memory of him. But he never could. Maybe it was better that way, because if John didn't remember Sherlock, who else would?


	19. Visiting and Telling

"John, I don't see why this is so important," Sherlock whined as they sat rather closely in the back of a cab.

"Because, Sherlock," John sighed, exasperated after having argued with Sherlock over it for nearly a week now. "It's important for us. If you can't get past this, how do you ever expect us to further our relationship?"

Sherlock half glared at John, but after a few moments, his expression softened. "I don't care about what anybody else may think, but if that's what you think and want, I suppose I'll have to oblige."

John smiled and leaned in to kiss Sherlock.

"John, if you want me to go through with this, I'd advise you to not kiss me right now," Sherlock murmured. "Otherwise, we might just have to turn around right now and go back to the flat."

The cabbie cleared his throat rather loudly. "Not that worse hasn't happened in this car, but we're here. Do you need me to wait?"

John could feel himself blushing; he had completely forgotten it wasn't just him and Sherlock. "Um, no that's all right."

After John had paid him and he had driven away, there was only one thing to do.

Sherlock and John found themselves sitting on a plain red couch in a huge, empty room.

"Figures he would leave us waiting in here." Sherlock's voice made it clear how irritated and annoyed he was.

"Well," Mycroft's voice rang out through the room. "What brings my little brother and his blogger by? I must admit that I was somewhat surprised by this."

John cleared his throat and motioned to Sherlock to start talking. Sherlock made a loud, exaggerated sigh and made a big deal out of rolling his eyes.

"Well, Mycroft," Sherlock said, sounding even more disinterested than usual. "John has asked me to come here to tell you something that he thinks is important for you to be aware of."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"That we are romantically involved," Sherlock said shortly and simply.

Mycroft offered a small smile. "Not to rain on your parade, John, but what makes you think that I was unaware of it in the first place?"

Sherlock turned to look at John. "Didn't I tell you? Now come; let's go back to the flat now." John stood up and started walking out of the room. Sherlock stood and looked like he was going to follow his blogger but stopped. "Don't talk to John like that, Mycroft. You may not think of him as your equal, but he is leaps and bounds ahead of you."

"Sherlock? Are you coming?" John popped back in.

"Coming, John," Sherlock said as he glided towards the door.

* * *

special thanks to XxTeOxArIsxX for wonderful reviews that made me feel like I was totally awesome 3


	20. Discovering Fanfiction

John was sitting at his laptop when Sherlock strolled rather casually into the room.

"What are you doing, John?" Sherlock sat down next to him and John couldn't help but take note of how close Sherlock was sitting.

"Just reading some stories on this website," John said, half glancing at Sherlock. With him in such close proximity, John was having a hard time not thinking about what certain _events_ had recently taken place involving them and a can of whipped cream.

Sherlock leaned in rather closely, trying to get a good look at John's computer screen. "Wha-, John, what is this?"

John looked down. "Well, Sherlock," he began as if talking to a child and not his lover.

"_It seemed as if the heat had suddenly kicked on when the two kissed. Their tongues began to dance, and Sherlock knew where this was going but wasn't sure if he was ready for such an intense step,"_ Sherlock read aloud from the computer. Scrolling further down on a different tab, he started reading again. "_Sherlock pushed John against the wall and almost clumsily smashed his mouth against the blogger's. Despite how graceful the consulting detective carried himself during every-day activities, in terms of kissing, he was a novice, and John couldn't help but notice."_

Sherlock looked expectantly at John as if he had written the stories himself. "Someone emailed me a link to a story, Sherlock, and I was intrigued."

"Well, why on earth would you keep reading them?" Sherlock questioned.

"Some of them are rather good, as a matter of fact. There are quite a few of them, to say the least. Besides, you knew as well as I did that when we decided to make things public that people were going to talk about us."

"Talk, yes. I didn't think that there were going to be thousands of stories written about our sexual endeavors!"

John stifed a laugh. "Are you upset because they all seem to portray you as inexperienced and clumsy?" Sherlock didn't respond which was an answer itself to John's question. "Because I'd rather they didn't know how experienced you really are." He turned Sherlock's face towards his and kissed him. "Can't have anyone trying to steal you away from me, can I?"

Sherlock chuckled in spite of his mixed feelings about the fan-written stories. "As if anybody could take me away from you, John."


	21. Going Public

Ever since the two had publicly announced their relationship, life had been slightly different for the blogger and consulting detective from 221B Baker Street. One thing that John had absolutely dreaded was the hatred. He knew that people were going to be offended by his relationship with Sherlock, and if John knew it, Sherlock did too. That was part of the reason they had kept it hidden for as long as they did. John vividly remembered arguing with Sherlock about it a few days before they decided to go public.

_"Sherlock, aren't I supposed to be the ridiculous, idiotic one in this relationship?"_ John recalled himself saying. _"It doesn't make sense for us to hide the way we feel about one another. As long as you and I are happy, why should we let what anybody else says get in the way of loving each other?"_

John remembered the look on Sherlock's face after he had said his bit. It was a mixture of confusion and timidness. _"Do you want people looking at you like you're lower than the dirt on their shoes, John? Because I've been on the receiving side of those looks, and it is not a fun place to be." _Sherlock's voice sounded sad almost, and John recalled that he never wanted to hear Sherlock sound like that ever again. _"We don't deserve that; we're better than that, John. **You're** better than that. I don't want you to have to go through seeing people look at you like you're a leper."_

_Tears had come to Sherlock's eyes then as he looked down. John took the opportunity to get closer to him. "Sherlock," John said as he sat next to him. "You can't be afraid of what other people are going to do. There are only two people in this relationship: you and I."_

_"And unfortunately, on occasion, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and the whole of Scotland Yard," Sherlock chuckled, finally looking at John eye to eye._

That night, Sherlock agreed to letting people finally know that he was John's and John was his. It was only about a week before they began receiving letters from anonymous writers. Things like "You're going to hell" and "You two should be ashamed." John knew how it affected Sherlock, even though Sherlock would never have told John aloud.

The letters kept coming, and John kept attempting to hide them from Sherlock. One certain event happened while they were out on a case. A man neither of them knew came up to them and told them they needed to be "cured". Sherlock simply ignored him, but it wasn't that easy for John.

"Excuse me?" John stopped and turned to fully face the man.

"You heard what I said. You're sick, both of you."

John was sure that Sherlock had known what was coming, but if he did, he made no attempt to stop John from doing what he did next. John punched the stranger, causing him to instantly hit the ground. "Neither of us are sick, thanks," John nearly shouted at the man. He turned, grabbed Sherlock's hands and continued on their way.

After walking a little ways away, Sherlock stopped them and kissed John. "Thank you," was the only thing he said before he kept walking.


	22. Broken

angsty story line, sorry!

* * *

John was sitting at his laptop, looking at his old blog. He hadn't had updated it since the last time he had seen Sherlock. The doctor had not seen the consulting detectve for nearly a year now. Sometimes John saw him in the papers, headlines about whatever brilliance he had used to solve a case deemed unsolvable. It always hurt John a little when they would pose the question, "Where was his famous companion?"

It had been a year since the duo had split up. Honestly, John regretted it wholeheartedly, and he still thought about it all the time and remembered that day vividly.

Sherlock had been frustrated because they hadn't gotten a case in over two weeks. He seemed to be going crazy and had intense cabin fever. John had come home from a long day only to find Sherlock on the couch playing with his gun again.

"Sherlock, what are you even doing right now?" John said, his voice sounding tired and exasperated.

"JOHN!" Sherlock had shouted at him loudly. "I need a case! I'm bored!"

John was used to Sherlock complaining about lack of cases and usually was able to calm him down, but he just couldn't bear to do anything about it that night. "Sherlock, just quit it. I'm sure that you can find something to occupy your time besides messing around in the living room with your gun!" Unaware that his voice had risen by the end of his statement, John stormed off.

Before John was fully aware of Sherlock following him, he had caught up and turned him around. "Why are you shouting?" Sherlock's eyes were filled with hurt and shock and surprise at John's outburst.

"Because, Sherlock!" John just kept on shouting at Sherlock, disregarding any thoughts about his feelings getting hurt. "You continuously act like a child! Why can't you ever act your own age? You're a grown man, and honesly, I feel like I can't even deal with you because I have to pretty much babysit you!"

Sherlock stood in front of John, his head held down in shock. "If you really feel that way, John, maybe you should just leave."

"What?" John asked, almost seeming to realize what his ranting words had done to the consulting detective who claimed to have no heart. "Sherlock, I, that's not what I-"

"John, just don't. Please. If that's how you feel, what's the point of us even being here?" Sherlock asked quietly as he looked at John with tears in his eyes. "I understand that you are possibly just under pressure and frustrated with work, but even if you were just ranting, there's something that was there that made you say those things."

John stood there quietly, finally understanding what his words had done. "Sherlock..."

"John. I think you'd better go now. I think that it would be the best for both of us at this time," Sherlock said with a sad tone to his voice. He seemed to be emotional about it, but he was clearly fighting to not show it as much.

John had packed his things and left 221B Baker Street that same week. He had started using a cane again, feeling the repercussions and consequences. Sherlock had continued on with future cases, and the public still loved him. One thing that confused them, besides the entire fact that Sherlock was able to solve these cases, was where on earth John was.

Lestrade had asked once or twice, being the only one besides Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson who knew they were a couple, but he had stopped when Mycroft contacted him. Sherlock didn't like to be reminded of John, but even for a supposedly heartless person, he saw John in every day little things.

The two missed each other terribly, but neither would ever dare to tell how much one needed the other.


	23. Surprise

Sherlock had been pacing for quite some time now, and John couldn't help but begin to get irritated.

"Sherlock!"" John nearly shouted. "What the hell are you pacing for?"

Sherlock looked shocked as if he didn't know John was even in the room. "Wha-John. I'm not pacing," Sherlock said with his eyes wide like a child who was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

"Are you nervous?" John asked, his eyes narrowed a little. "About our date later?"

Sherlock scoffed as if such an idea was downright ridiculous. "John," Sherlock's voice sounded a bit scolding. "Why on earth should I be nervous about our date?"

"I don't know, Sherlock. It's your mind and I only understand a bit of it anyway," John shook his head at the look on Sherlock's face. "If you're not nervous, why are you pacing then? And don't tell me you're not pacing because there's no other way to describe what you were just doing."

Sherlock had stopped pacing and forced himself to sit down. "John, have you ever stopped to think that maybe I just needed to be up and about for a moment?" Sherlock curled his legs up towards himself in the chair. "I can't always just sit quietly. Sometimes I just need to...be moving."

John looked skeptical at Sherlock's explanation. "Well, if you just needed to be up and about, I don't understand why it took _you_ that long to simply say it. You've got an explanation for everything else within a millisecond, and you're acting a bit defensive for someone who just wanted to be in motion." John got up from his seat. "Just try and calm down a bit, okay?" John passed by and kissed Sherlock on his forehead.

Sherlock sighed a breath of relief after John left the room. It had been tremendously difficult for Sherlock to hide what he was planning from John; Sherlock had admittedly gotten used to telling most things to John, even if he didn't always completely understand what went through his mind. John was always there to listen to Sherlock.

**_(Later that evening)_**

John and Sherlock were out to dinner at Angelo's, and Sherlock was beginning to get nervous again.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked. "I can tell that something's wrong by that expression on your face."

Sherlock thought for a minute. "John," he began slowly. "Nothing's wrong exactly. It's just that something has been on my mind. You were almost completely correct earlier when you deduced that I was nervous about our date tonight. But you weren't right about why I was nervous." At that moment, Angelo brought over a bottle of wine.

"Sherlock? What is this?" John looked as confused as ever.

"John, look in your glass, please," Sherlock said rather quietly. John took out a ring, plain but gorgeous just the same. "I've been wanting to ask you something for quite some time now. But you know me, not quite as courageous as others. Nor am I an expert when it comes to expressing sentimental things, so bear with me here." Sherlock cleared his throat. "You've become the single most important person in my life, and now I can't even imagine how I survived before you were in my life. You've become a steadfast person, someone for me to hold on to, and I don't know what I would do if something were to tear us apart. John Hamish Watson, will you do me the honor of marrying me and staying with me for the rest of our lives? I know I can be rather annoying at times, but I love you."

John looked at Sherlock, the world's only consulting detective. "Of course I will, Sherlock. I love you too." The two embraced and kissed, ignoring the smug smiles on the entire staff's faces.


	24. Adoption?

"Sherlock, come on! The lady is going to be here any minute!" John was rushing around trying to hide anything that seemed suspicious or out of place.

"John, calm down," Sherlock was tuning his violin and watching John stumble about the flat. "Stop worrying."

"Sherlock!" John stopped abruptly. "This woman is the only thing standing between us and actually adopting a child. Can you at least attempt to take this seriously? This means a lot to me, Sherlock."

Sherlock got up and walked over to John. "John, I am taking this seriously. You still need to...calm down a little bit." Sherlock kissed John. "This is going to happen, okay? I promise."

John smiled at Sherlock, then a knock came at the door.

**_(a few weeks later)__  
_**

"Sherlock?" John called out. Sherlock had been in his room, but at the sound of John calling him, Sherlock came out to the front room. John held up an envelope, looking similar to an emotional mess. "It's here. Do you want to open it?"

Sherlock was tempted to say no of course not, but he could tell that John would not be able to open the envelope himself. He nodded. "I'll read it aloud, okay?" John nodded slightly as Sherlock tore open the envelope.

"Dear Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson: I write to tell you," Sherlock's voice trailed off slightly as he read the contents of the entire letter.

"What, Sherlock?" John's voice was impatient, as if he couldn't wait a minute longer. "Are we going to be able to adopt, yes or no?"

Sherlock looked up from the letter to look at John. "I write to tell you that the agency has consented and has decided to allow you to adopt a child." Sherlock's face broke into a grin and hugged John.

Sherlock wouldn't have let John know before hand just how much he wanted a child. Contrary to popular belief, Sherlock rather enjoyed children. Most so ready to learn about the world, they offered a sense of enthusiasm that few adults had. They seemed to appreciate knowledge itself more than the majority of adults did.

"You're actually excited, happy about this, Sherlock?" John asked him after their embrace ended.

"Yes, John. I am rather enthusiastic about this, John," Sherlock said with a smile. "Just because I don't act like it often enough, I think that I would enjoy being a parent." He kissed John, lingering a little. "And there's nobody else that I would rather raise a child with."

* * *

a rather short chapter, but I might write another chapter with adoption. Someone suggested it (I'd say their name but that notification is far away...) and I thought it was a really good idea, so thank you!


	25. Dinner Date

Sherlock had surprised John the other day by saying he had wanted to go out. "John, do we have plans for Saturday evening?" Sherlock had asked, trying to make his voice as casual as possible.

John had looked up slightly confused. "Uh, no. Not that I know of at least. Why?"

"Because," Sherlock said. "I thought that it might be...enjoyable if we were to go out on Saturday."

John had to hold himself back to stop from bursting out into laughter. "Are you serious, Sherlock? You're telling me that you actually want to go out?"

Sherlock looked slightly offended but bemused. "Yes, I do, John. If you would rather we just stay home-"

"No! We can go out!" John cut him off before he finished his thought.

Sherlock smiled in spite of himself. "All right then. Saturday evening it is."

**_(Saturday_****_)_**

Saturday had finally come, and John was grateful that it did. Between his wanting to know and Sherlock not telling him, waiting for Saturday to arrive had almost been unbearable. Since Sherlock wasn't about to let John in on the secret, John wasn't sure as to what he was expected to wear.

"Sherlock!" John knocked at his closed door. When Sherlock finally opened the door, John was close to kicking it open. "What exactly am I supposed to wear on this date of yours, hmm?"

Sherlock looked as if he was talking to a child. "Well..." his voice trailed off as he looked at John.

"Sherlock," John's voice held a hint of warning.

Sherlock chuckled. "Fine, fine. You should be fine in what you usually wear. " Sherlock looked down at John's current attire. "Maybe not a sweater so...bright."

**_(later)_**

John sat in the living room, waiting on Sherlock as usual. "Sherlock? Are you going to be ready any time soon?" John sighed and mumbled under his breath, "I swear you take your time just to irritate me."

"Even if I do take my time to irritate you, John," Sherlock stood in the doorway with a smirk on his face. "You enjoy waiting on me." He walked over and kissed him. "Besides, there isn't a rush. Where do you think we're going?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, Sherlock. Where are we going?" John questioned as he grabbed Sherlock's hand.

"Nowhere," Sherlock said with glee hinting in his voice. John wore a look of confusion. "Just come into the kitchen, John." Sherlock pulled John along behind him. The kitchen table had a candle lit in the center and plates in front of two chairs.

"Sherlock, I can't believe you," John said with a smile on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Sherlock looked slightly worried at John's reaction.

"No!" John said hurriedly. "It's...perfect." Sherlock smiled at John's choice of words and the two proceeded to have a particularly enjoyable dinner date._  
_


	26. David

"David!" John called.

Sherlock stumbled into the room, eyes drooping slightly. He hadn't slept in a week because of a case, but instead he crashed the night after solving it. Normally, he wouldn't have been awake at this time, but John had gotten him up at the same time as David. Sherlock kissed John on his way to the couch as David came rushing into the room.

"Sorry! I couldn't find my other shoe," David apologized as he sat at the small table in the kitchen.

David had been living with the boys of 221B Baker Street for a few months now. He had settled in just fine and seemed to enjoy living there. Sherlock remembered how awkward it had felt for him when he had first moved in.

_Sherlock had walked in to the building to find boxes in the flat. There weren't many, and at first glance, Sherlock had almost thought that they belonged to John. After a quick deduction, Sherlock quickly dismissed the ridiculous idea. He found John clearing out the room that used to belong to him._

_"John?" Sherlock called with a hint of questioning in his voice. He had already formed an opinion of his own by this time, but he wanted confirmation._

_John peeked out behind one of the boxes with a smile on his face. "I assume that you've already figured out what I'm doing and why, yes?" He looked gleeful, perhaps because of the blank look on Sherlock's face. "He should be here this afternoon, so if you don't mind, I'd greatly appreciate your help with this. It'd go a lot faster."_

_Sherlock resisted the urge to run over to John and hug him, instead opting for grabbing a box and helping slowly. "David, right?" Sherlock questioned even though he was positive he knew all there was to know about the child. He was nine years old; his father had died when he was a baby and the mother decided she couldn't handle raising him herself; he had been at that orphanage for as long as he could remember; he was rather small for his age, but made up for it in his attitude towards others, challenging anybody who asked for it; brown hair, brown eyes._

_John looked at Sherlock like he was going to punch him. "Don't ask questions that you already know the answer to, Sherlock. And please, don't put any added pressure on him. He's still a child and the last thing he needs is to feel like we're going to kick him out at any moment." Now it was Sherlock's turn to shoot daggers at John with his eyes. If there was one thing Sherlock knew not to do, it was to make it seem like he would be unwanted or unwelcome in their home._

_Later that day, David showed up at their flat. Sherlock was able to coax responses from him, acting like a natural parental figure. That night, David slept soundly in John's old room. It seemed like a match made in heaven; he fit in like a missing piece in a three-piece puzzle with John and Sherlock, and they wouldn't have had it any other way._

David gulped down his breakfast and grabbed his coat. "Okay, I'm ready!" The nine year old looked eagerly at John and Sherlock, ready to go to school. He ran out the door and down the stairs to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock and John looked at each other as they met in the doorway, touched lips and left the flat to follow their son.


	27. What If?

AU chapter! What if Sherlock and John had never met?

* * *

John woke up startled from his nightmares. He knew he should be used to them by now. He had them every night after all. Nightmares from his past, trying to catch up with his present. The bane of his entire existence were those nightmares. John knew he was never going to get back to sleep now, but he closed his eyes and rolled over in spite of that knowledge.

John waited for what seemed like a lifetime but was merely an hour before he got up from his bed. The bed was plain and mundane, much like John's day to day life. He forced himself to get dressed after a short shower, then decided it'd be best to have at least a piece of toast before he went to meet Ella.

He had been seeing Ella daily for months now. She never really helped, except for that blog idea, but it wasn't as if John's life was exciting enough for more than a few acquaintances of his to look at. He tried to write something every day, but besides a few strange people wandering into the office, nothing ever happened to him.

Sometimes John wished that something out of the ordinary would happen. He'd see stuff on the television sometimes, about crimes being solved. For some reason, that made him feel a little bit better. That someone was out there doing something about the injustices of the world. He remembered seeing something strange on the news and reading things in the paper about some crime solver who had apparently been a fraud and jumped off a building. John would sometimes even hear people passing on the street talking about him. Complaining about how he had deceived all of the public. John didn't know too much about it, but he never really approved how people spoke ill of him. After all, shouldn't they respect the dead?

* * *

Sherlock had gone into hiding some months ago. Moriarty was going to shoot Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. He remembered that a part of him had wanted to tell Moriarty to go ahead and do it. Sherlock had only a little sentimental attachment to the two of them. Being alone was what protected him anyways; being alone was what he had. Sometimes Sherlock would think back to what Moriarty had basically said. It had scared him a bit, how similar they actually were. The reason he had faked his death was only to prove that Sherlock and Moriarty were not the same person.

That something was different between the two of them, separated the two of them. Sherlock was almost surprised with how easily he was able to leave that part of his life behind. There was nothing holding him back there, nothing keeping him glued there. But there was nothing stopping him from becoming like Moriarty. That thought alone was enough to keep Sherlock away from society, cut off and alone.


	28. Wedding Bells

The day had finally come. John couldn't help but think about how nervous he actually was. He and Sherlock had been together for nearly two years and they'd been out publicly for a little over a year now. John knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Sherlock and there was no doubt in his mind that he would ever stop loving him, but a wedding was something that he hadn't counted on, especially not one that would include other people that weren't necessary.

John doubted that it had been Sherlock's idea and suspected that Mrs. Hudson had played a certain part in planning this. The pair of them had been reluctant to invite the people that were picked and approved by Mrs. Hudson, but both of them knew that it was important to her.

Sherlock was lost in his mind palace, trying to store away the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. John meant more to him than anybody, and it didn't take a consulting detective to deduce that. It scared Sherlock sometimes how much John was necessary to his life. He hadn't been dependent on anybody for some time now, but then John showed up and seemed to bring out the emotions and feelings in Sherlock.

It had been about five months since Sherlock had proposed to John, and at the time, he had thought that the two would just go to down to a courthouse. It had all seemed to...inflate to something bigger than he had thought possible. Sherlock and John had agreed that they would go along with it, outwardly saying that it was to please everybody else but knowing internally that they would enjoy it. It significantly helped that other people were planning it, so at the end of the day, all Sherlock and John had to worry about were possible cold feet.

They were dressed simply and elegantly in black tuxedos. It had been previously agreed between the two that they would walk down the aisle together, linked arm in arm. They stood by the doors of the building, waiting until they were sure it was time to walk in. Sherlock looked at John who was fiddling with his tie. Sherlock couldn't help but smile and fix it for him. "We could always just leave," Sherlock murmured quietly.

John looked at him and scoffed. "Sherlock, you know we can't do that. Unless you're having doubts..." John's voice trailed off as he just looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock kissed him as he finished fixing John's tie. "Never, my love." The two heard their cue and linked arms. "Allons-y," Sherlock whispered to John as they walked in.

The time seemed to fly by rather quickly, until suddenly it was time to say their vows.

"John," Sherlock said holding a paper in his hands, more just for something to be there than for actual reference. "You've come to be the most important person in my life. You're the bravest person I know because you are constantly doing things for other people. You never think about yourself, and I can't say that I do the same, you amaze me with your humanity for others. You have changed my life completely, and even I'm not sure where I would be if you hadn't had come into my life. I know that I'm not the most tolerable person, and it still astounds me that you are able to put up with me. I also know that I'm not the best when it comes to expressing my feelings, but believe me when I say I love you, John Hamish Watson."

Sherlock shoved his paper in his pocket and smiled as he looked at John.

"Well, not sure how I'm going to top that," John chuckled and looked down nervously at his paper. "Um, Sherlock. It seemed completely by chance that we ended up meeting, but now I don't know what I would've done if we hadn't met. You took my life on a different path completely, showing me a different world where you know everything. You're the most amazing person, Sherlock, even with your quirky characteristics." He paused here to look at Sherlock. "From that first day, everybody thought that there was something there, and I think that's the about the only thing you haven't seen clearly. It just took us a little longer to reach that conclusion, but I'm beyond happy that we did. You aren't the most tolerable person, but there's so much more to you than what everybody else sees, and I can't stress that enough. I love you now and I will forever, Sherlock. No matter how annoying you may act, I really do."

Sherlock gave a rare grin of sorts and they put their rings on. After what had seemed like the slowest part of the wedding, they kissed.

"Forever, John. I promise," Sherlock said as he squeezed John's hand.

John smiled and squeezed his hand back. "I wouldn't ever let you go, Sherlock."

The consulting detective and his blogger walked back down the aisle, hand in hand.


	29. Blogging

John sat at his laptop, typing furiously. He hadn't updated his blog in over a month now, and he had many cases to publish. He just hadn't had time. Not after...Sherlock jumped. John paused his typing and closed his eyes tight. It had been more than two months since Sherlock had jumped now. They had been the longest two months of John's life. A part of him still couldn't believe it, that Sherlock, the great Sherlock Holmes, was really dead and gone.

John forced the thought to the back of his mind. He made himself take a deep breath and look at his laptop. John grimaced at how long it had taken him to solve the last case.

_I am no Sherlock Holmes,_ John typed. _Of this I am sure, but with Sherlock gone, I've stepped up to try to._

John stopped typing. What was he trying to do? Not become Sherlock, not take his place. No one could do that.

_To be honest, I don't know what I've stepped up to do. I just want to be useful to the world, and now that Sherlock's gone, I've got to do my best to do that alone. In the past two months, I've only solved 5 cases in total, but I'm rather proud of that, so don't poke fun at me for not being the world's only consulting detective. I'm going to try my best to recall every little thing about each of the cases, but let's face it: I am not Sherlock Holmes. I also need to make this perfectly clear. I don't want anybody on here talking about Sherlock negatively or disrespectfully. If that's what you've come here to do, then I suggest you get off my page._

John sighed and posted the short document. He began typing again, slower, less upset now.

_Life after Sherlock jumped was bleary, it was slow. Lestrade tried many times to get me out of the flat, he tried to get me to do anything. But nothing worked until he came to me with a case. Something about it made something inside me...spark. It brought back a reminder of Sherlock, and something about it just made me want to go out and do something about it. I think that that first case was a fairly easy one; Sherlock would've solved it in about half an hour and I think that even Lestrade would've figured the damn thing out eventually. Truth be told, not so much about this case is interesting, so I'm just going to skip it. After all, if I can solve it, it's more or less easy. _

John posted the once again short document. He didn't see the point of writing about the cases anymore, but it reminded him of the old days. John clung to the insane hope inside of him that maybe, just maybe, Sherlock's name would pop up in the comments, judging him, scolding him, anything. But sooner or later, John was going to have to face the facts. Sherlock was dead, and he was going to stay dead. He wasn't ever going to type a comment again, solve a case, scold him, bug him about the most menial of things. Sherlock was gone, and John couldn't help but notice how alone he truly was without him.


	30. The End

Sherlock sighed, his hands perched in a familiar, easy, comfortable place under his chin. John walked over, his hand brushing against his shoulder before he set down a cup of tea in front of him. Sherlock smiled at John as he sat down in a nearby chair.

"You're welcome," John said, a hint of playful annoyance in his voice.

"Yes, of course," Sherlock murmured absent mindedly. He smiled even bigger as John looked at him and shook his head.

Suddenly, David came running into the room, eagerly waving papers in the air. "Look! Look! Look!" He shoved a few of the papers into Sherlock's hands and urged him to look at them.

Sherlock chuckled and looked at John before arranging the papers in his hands. "Well, is this what you've been working on, David?" He smiled at the young boy's enthusiasm at the papers. "I can already tell this is going to be a masterpiece."

David grinned proudly at his father. "Do you really think it will be?" His voice raised excitedly at his father's approval.

"Of course it will be. How could it not?" Sherlock passed the papers to John, nodding at them encouragingly. "I could tell by the way the notes were arranged that only a beautiful song could be produced from it."

John looked down at the piece. "Well," he began slowly. "I don't know that much about music, David, but if Sherlock says it is, I can only believe it." He handed the papers back to David as he ran out of the room. "Would it really have sounded good?" He asked Sherlock once David was gone.

"It wasn't Mozart, but it would sound good, great even. He enjoys it, so that's what it will be," Sherlock said as he moved his seat by John.

It had been quite a long time since the two had exchanged vows, a shorter time since David had been added to their family. Still, to the both of them it seemed like only yesterday they met. John reached for Sherlock's hand, and Sherlock obliged, squeezing John's hand as a response. Perhaps one day, the three of them would move out of the flat, but not today. John and Sherlock had held onto the memories of the flat and enjoyed making newer ones there with David. It was their home, down to every last bullet hole in the wall. David enjoyed being able to escape his fathers to spend time with Mrs. Hudson downstairs, but at the end of the day, he returned to the flat and hugged both Sherlock and John.

"Do you ever think-" John began only to be cut off almost immediately by Sherlock.

"Most likely." Sherlock turned and grinned at John.

"Shut up for a moment," John said jokingly. "Do you ever think we'll leave the flat for a different place?'' He looked at Sherlock, searching his face.

Sherlock paused for a moment, half a second maybe. "John, for once, I don't have the answer. But trust me, believe me when I say, I will be with you, and I will be with David, no matter what."

John smiled as Sherlock leaned in and their lips met.

* * *

in my opinion, this was not my best chapter, so I might write another otp thingy, but this took me quite a while longer than I thought. My mistake! I do apologize for taking so long to finish this by the way! Thanks to everybody for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following! 3 3 3


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